


So You Think You Can Cook

by jovaine



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-21
Updated: 2015-02-21
Packaged: 2018-03-14 09:00:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3404864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jovaine/pseuds/jovaine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every time you cook you set off the smoke alarm so you know what I’m just going to teach you how to cook.</p>
            </blockquote>





	So You Think You Can Cook

**Author's Note:**

> [Prompt](http://avengerkink.livejournal.com/20598.html?thread=49402742#t49402742)
> 
> I'm kinda on a kink meme kick at the moment, so here I am filling prompts left and right but contrary to the type of meme, unable to write any sort of smut.

“Hello, neighbour”.

 

The man in front of him raises a brow but smiles easily. “Hi”.

 

“I live in the apartment next to yours,” Bucky says, pointing a thumb over his left shoulder. “Couldn’t help overhearing the commotion this morning”.

 

“Ah, yes, my friends can be… very enthusiastic,” tall, blonde and blue eyed replies, before holding out his hand. “Steve Rogers”.

 

“James Barnes. But you can call me Bucky. And I brought a welcome gift”.

 

Steve looks a bit too grateful when he accepts the pot of beef stew (It’s not difficult. Just throw everything into a pot and bring it to a boil. Seriously).

 

“I’m a terrible cook,” Steve confesses. “This is going to be a big help”.

 

“Good to know,” Bucky says, sure that Steve was merely being polite. “See you around, then”.

 

* * *

 

He’s putting the finishing touches on his presentation when he hears an obnoxious ringing noise which he’s quite sure is the smoke alarm in his new neighbour’s house. So he’s feeling a little dread when he throws open his front door and rushes over to bang repeatedly on Steve’s door.

 

It opens after a few seconds, revealing a red headed woman holding an open umbrella above her head.

 

“Well, hello there,” she drawls in what he hopes is a fake mid-west accent.

 

In retrospect, the umbrella she’s holding is almost completely useless. She’s already ninety percent wet; her hair, tank top and jeans are basically plastered to her skin. Behind her, from the direction of the kitchen, curses and clanging sounds drift towards them, together with annoyed grumbling along the lines of “… priorities, Nat, priorities”.

 

The red head merely looks amused and hands him her umbrella before turning and walking further into the apartment casually. She leaves the door open, so Bucky assumes that she had meant to invite him in, and steps in, glancing at the sprinklers which are still spewing water at full force over the few pieces of furniture and multitude of boxes littered in the visible space. The smell of smoke is much stronger now that he’s in the apartment and he watches as the woman efficiently throws open all the windows and turns on the fans, causing the deluge and sound to stop after a while. Both of them troop dutifully into the kitchen after that, where Steve is standing over the dustbin and sighing despondently.

 

‘Nat’ turns out to be ‘Natasha’, Steve’s ‘colleague in the government sector’ who actually does not speak with any sort of accent.

 

“He was trying to make bacon wrapped meatloaf for dinner,” Natasha explains, after grabbing him a can of beer. “I love Steve, but he has got to be the worst cook I’ve ever met. I hope he’s better in the bedroom though”.

 

Oh, Bucky thinks, and wonders whether he should invite them over to Becca’s, who wouldn’t mind an additional two mouths to feed at the weekly Barnes family dinner (Be There or Be Stabbed, thank you very much), or give them a few packets of instant noodles from his stash.

 

Something probably shows on his face, because Natasha waves it off and says “It’s all right, Clint will feed us”.

 

She levels an exasperated glare in Steve’s direction, who is currently wiping down the kitchen cabinets, and they both take the opportunity to admire the way his muscles bunches with his movements. Steve finally gets bored of them sitting there making fun of him and promptly shoves a mop and a washcloth into their hands and directs them to start cleaning up. Bucky spends the next two hours playing house and trading jokes with Steve and Natasha before finally deigning to leave for Becca’s.

 

* * *

 

Bucky enjoys waking up at ungodly hours in the morning to jog around the neighbourhood, a habit he soon learns he shares with Steve when he bumps into the other man as he’s going back to his apartment for a quick shower before heading to the office. He notes that Steve apparently enjoys wearing shirts that are one or two sizes too small for him. Either that, or he’s also terrible at doing the laundry. He makes a mental note to ask Natasha that the next time he sees her.

 

Steve pauses in the middle of running a towel through his damp hair to grin at him. “Hey, neighbour. You’re just the person I wanted to see. Wait here”.

 

Before Bucky can even say anything, Steve has unlocked his own door and disappeared into the apartment, leaving Bucky to stand awkwardly on the threshold. Steve reappears very quickly, and pushes a medium sized cake box into Bucky’s hands.

 

“Brownies,” Steve announces proudly.

 

Bucky smiles and opens the box, picking up a piece and biting into it. It’s just the right amount of fudgy with a nice crisp top and he can’t help sounding incredulous when he says “You made these?” (The part about Steve’s predilection to burning whatever he tries to cook goes unsaid).

 

Steve blushes. “No, my friend, Sam, made them, and I wanted to give you something in return for the stew. And for being part of my clean up crew the other day even though you didn’t have to”.

 

If Bucky finds himself wondering how far Steve’s blush spreads across his body several times during the rest of the day, well, that’s only for him to know.

 

* * *

 

He hasn’t seen Steve for a few weeks, but comes back after a night out with the boys to see two men and a woman walking into Steve’s place. The curly haired one catches his eyes and offers him a small smile, and the woman, also a red head, but not as striking as Natasha had been, looks over.

 

“Oh, you must be Bucky,” she smiles. “I’m Pepper, these are Bruce and Tony. We’re here to binge on beer and pizza and to provide Steve with enough leftovers and food he can freeze and heat up for the next week”.

 

“He can’t be that bad,” Bucky laughs.

 

Tony, who’s holding a large paper bag, snorts. “You were here for Meatloaf Disaster 2015, weren’t you? It might interest you to know that your neighbour has managed to burn pop tarts even though there are instructions on the box”.

 

* * *

 

The second time he has to rush over when he hears the smoke alarm is a Saturday afternoon. This time, the person who opens the door is a middle aged man who offers him a bland if polite smile, and says “Not to worry, we’ve got everything under control”.

 

The alarm stops blaring before he finishes his sentence, and Steve appears at the door, with an Asian woman behind him who is carefully brushing off black flecks off her white shirt.

 

“Bucky,” Steve beams. “We disabled the sprinklers after what happened last time so there’s no water to worry about this time. Would you like to come in? We can order take out. How does Thai food sound to you?”

 

Steve’s friends (Phil and Melinda, nice to meet you) shrug and Phil opens the door wider for him to step in.

 

“What were you trying to cook this time?” Bucky asks, genuinely curious.

 

Steve got into a coughing fit and muttered something about phone numbers and the time before disappearing into the kitchen.

 

“Beef wellington with wild mushroom sauce, potato gratin and pan seared vegetables,” Phil says, at the same time Melinda says “Grilled cheese sandwiches”.

 

* * *

 

He has time to pull on his shoes and check his hair in the hallway mirror the next time he hears Steve’s smoke alarm. Steve opens the door himself this time, grinning and waving him in. He dumps a blackened lump of something into the dustbin and pours Bucky a cup of coffee.

 

“Sorry about that. It must be terrible for your heart rate now that I’m your neighbour,” Steve says, not looking at all sorry.

 

“Among other things,” Bucky sighs dramatically before mumbling. “Listen, every time you cook you set off the smoke alarm so you know what I’m just going to teach you how to cook”.

 

Miraculously, Steve appears to have caught the whole sentence because he leans forward happily and says, “Really?”

 

“Uh… yes,” Bucky says, leaning back slightly and tearing his eyes away from the man in front of him. “One pot meals, mainly. Cookies. Muffins. Mac and cheese. The internet, so helpful. And I make mean pancakes”.

 

“I make mean pancakes too,” Steve smirks. “Mainly for those I’ve spent an enjoyable night with”.

 

“Right,” Bucky says, trying and failing to avoid the implications. “But err... I thought you couldn’t cook?”

 

“Who am I to stop my friends from constantly visiting and feeding me when they enjoy it so much?” Steve sighs, spreading his arms to indicate his kitchen.

 

To say that Bucky was speechless would be an understatement. “But… uh… dinner… smoke… um…”

 

Steve immediately takes advantage of him being tongue tied to link their fingers together. “Stay the night, would you? Try to see whether you’ll be one of the lucky ones who get to try my cooking”.

 

“You little shit,” Bucky replies.

 

But yes, he does stay. And he gets pancakes the next morning.


End file.
